Monopoly
by Eclectic1
Summary: Alucard and Seras sit down for a nice, relaxing game of Monopoly.


DISCLAMER: That's right, I own none of these characters. Nope. {tear}

Alucard's deranged brow is furrowed with the anticipation of an upcoming oh-so-sweet victory. A wave of maniacle laughter escapes from his throat;

"heheheeheeheeHAhaHAhahHAHAHAAMWAHAHAAAAHAAA-{{SWAP}}"

"OW!!!HEY!!"

Seras lowers her hand from the back of Alucard's rather 'gruffy' head. "Ohh shettup; you haven't won yet. And the force of that domn laughter is blowing my hotels away."

Alucard grumbles a stream of intangible obscenities, and rubs the back of his now-sore skull. And Seras was correct; the force of his voluminous laughter had already blown 6 hotels, 2 houses, and even the tiny, stainless-steel shoe off of the Monopoly board.

Seras sighs deeply, "Bugga, now I'm going to have to use the terrier. And I doubt that a little doggy has the same cut-throat business attitude as a leather shoe."

Alucard's grin stretches to places no normal grin has ever attempted, nay; _wanted_ to go. "Ohh but my dear Seras, you are down to a mere 100 dollars. Soon, very soon; everything will be MINE. You and your little dog too!!! NYEEHEHEHEAHAHHOHO-{{{CRONK)))"

From the comfort of his old leather chair across the room, Walter gives Alucard's cranium a good wooden-cane rapping to end the continuous stream of 'heeheehos'. Seras claps appreciatively. Walter stands up, bows; and triumphantly returns to his seat. Alucard wonders how long his head will take to heal.

Walter smiles broadly, "Now play nice Alucard. Do you REALLY want me to report you to Sir Integra?"

Seras giggles,"My Loard, it must be hard being her bitch-"

Alucard rises above the board, sucking it and its contents into a random hell-portal forming on some mentionless body part. "_EXSCUSSSE ME MISS VICTORIA, BUT I DO BELIEVE YOU ARE_ _MY_…..uhh…what's that new-age term for servitude again?"

"Bitch?" Walter volunteers, calmly glancing up from his newspaper.

"_YESSS, THAT IS THE CORRECT DEMEANING TERM_!!!" More hovering ensues, followed by the absorption of the entire coffee table and a green rug which was sitting innocently by Arucard's left shoe.

Seras quickly darts backwards, avoiding the creepy eyeballs sprouting randomly on Arucard's jacket surface. "OHH BLOODY ELL ARUCARD, STOP ABSORBING THE DOMN GAMEBOARDS!! TOYS R' US CLOSED TWO HOURS AGO, AND WE'RE OUT OF FREAKIN GAMES!!!"

All 50 eyeballs blink. Alucard floats meanderingly back to ground-level. "Oh. Yes. Well. The whole game thing was getting a bit tedious, wasn't it?"

At that very moment, an army of undead ghouls from the brink of a collapsed civilization was heading towards Hellsing headquarters with no intentions but doom and destruction. But upon hearing the erratic screeching of a pissy Seras, every one of them nervously turned about-face and headed in the general direction of Disney-land.

Walter sips his tea, and looks back up. "Is anyone up for a nice game of strip-poker?"

Alucard considers. "I see nothing wrong with that."

"NO!" Seras pouts angrily.

"Truth-or-Dare?"

Seras _almost_ agreed to that, until she saw that gloriously-deranged gleam in Alucard's eyes. All 52 of them. Yes, 52.

The policewoman smirks, "Why don't we play a little game of, "Is- that-a-bright-orange-thong-sticking-out-of -Alucard's-pants??!!" She laughs haughtily in Alucard's general direction.

"I do believe that was Sir Integra's late birthday present to Alucard." Walter begins to quaintly dust the shelves, whistling a cheerful, nameless tune.

Alucard leans forward, the persona of wicked glee, fingertips placed _very_ conveniently together. "Why Seras, I _do _believe you are paying an overtly large amount of attention to the general area of my crotch."

Seras goes redder than any single organic creature in the history of redness, and flops over due to the ungodly amount of blood that begins rushing to her head. Walter runs over to generally be of no help at all, and, using the tools he has handy, carefully dusts her off.

"Why sir, I must say that orange is very fetching on you."

Alucard blinks. "Whu?"

"Ohh, nothing sir." Walter picks up the pale, coma-laden Seras and flops her onto the couch, whistling a somewhat off rendition of "Put a Little Sunshine in your Life". Alucard shrugs and goes off to do…whatever it is he does. Which I really don't _want_ to write about.

And somewhere on Magic Mountain, an undead army of evil if having a simply magical time meeting Cinderella and getting motion-sickness on the spinning teacups. But that's another story.

MORAL: Birthday thongs; all the rage in English-speaking populations!!


End file.
